


Love Me Tender

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Pack, Romance, Smut, married and with a kid allison argent/scott mccall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8 looks into Stiles and Derek's lives in the future</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Each ‘part’ title has been taken from Elvis Presley’s 'Love Me Tender’ and this fic was inspired by [these beautiful animations](http://candypinkcocks.tumblr.com/post/58410984360/littlecofiegirl-artthingy-alternate-color).

> #### love me tender

As soon as he’s fully seated on Derek’s cock, Stiles grins wide and triumphant down at his werewolf lover. Derek’s staring back at him like a thirsty man stares at an oasis in the middle of a desert - like it’s a damned miracle and the best sight he's  _ever_  seen.  
  


His hands slide up Derek’s sweaty chest, taking a small detour to trace a pectoral and sharp collar bone before going higher and higher, curling around the man’s jaw. Stiles’ grin remains in place as he leans in, curling down to steal a kiss or few from Derek’s swollen pink lips.  
  


Derek’s hands cup his shoulders right as their lips touch, stroking down Stiles’ back so gently that the younger man can feel goosebumps rising on his arms. He moans into the kiss, deciding that kissing Derek is the real, wolf equivalent of taking a sip of Butterbeer. He has to be.   
  


As Stiles pulls away, he rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyes Derek’s mouth. Restless fingertips trace the shell of his pink tipped ear, sliding behind to tease the sensitive skin behind it as Stiles muses, “Did you eat chocolate before we started?”  He's thinking about going back in for another taste. For science. And reasons.  
  


The werewolf quirks an amused eyebrow, hands now resting lazy-comfortable on Stiles’ ass and almost where Stiles would like Derek’s fingers to be. Maybe if he gave the man’s cock a good hard squeeze that would get Derek to fuck him good and hard… “I told you. We’re all out of chocolate.” Derek replies, giving one firm cheek a squeeze.  
  


Stiles’ eyes narrow with suspicion, hands firmly holding Derek’s face between them. “Then why do you taste all chocolatey, hmm?” He asks, coming back in to get another taste of Derek’s tongue and the flavor clinging there. Yep, that’s chocolate. The traitor! Derek’s been holding out on him!  
  


The body under him shakes as Derek chuckles into Stiles’ questing mouth. “Maybe because I got a hot chocolate on my way back home.” Derek’s dry reply makes Stiles point a finger at his dead pan expression, the mock displeased frown saying everything that Stiles wants to say.  
  


> #### love me sweet

“Up an’ at 'em.” Stiles announces as he pulls the curtains back, wincing at the bright sunlight. It takes him less than a second to get used to the light that’s now flooding their bedroom but he’s been awake for a while now so. Derek though? Is another story.  
  


The werewolf grunts, rolls over and presses his face into his pillow and pretends that he’s still sleeping. Stiles rolls his eyes, still so amused at the fact that Derek is not a morning person. He’s kind of like Oscar the Grouch in the first hour after he wakes up. Except worse because he’s got claws and fangs and a penchant for growling and grunting more than opting for words for responses. Derek the Grouchy Caveman.   
  


Stiles walks over to the other side of the bed. Eyes the alarm clock before he tells the back of Derek’s head. “If you don’t get up you’re gonna be late.”  
  


“Dun’ c’re.” The muffled reply makes the younger man roll his eyes so hard that they actually hurt. Had he forgotten to mention that Derek acted like a complete _child_ when he’s got to wake up early on the weekend? It’s like he regresses back to being 8 (or something in that neighborhood).  
  


Stiles leans down to grab the thin sheets, intent on actually dragging Derek’s ass out of bed. It’s totally possible given the way the sheet is twisted around the other man’s body. There's a bit wrapped around Derek's hips that makes Stiles think of more wicked things. Stiles fights to stay on track and not give into the urge to drag Derek down to the floor, shuck his sweats and hoodie off and ride the man until they both have a  _wicked_  case of rugburn.   
  


His actual plan and 'I wish we had time for this’ plan both go out the window when Derek’s hand grabs the sheet as well, using it to yank Stiles forward instead. The younger man falls forward on Derek’s back with a yelp, nose smacking into a warm chest. “Ow!” Stiles complains, wriggling his nose as Derek’s hands man handle him into a new position.   
  


Stiles finds himself pressed against Derek’s body and he wriggles his toes against the werewolf’s ankles just because he can. Derek’s on his back now (when had he…?), eyes still closed in peaceful repose. But his lips are strained, a clear sign that he’s holding himself back from smiling.  
  


Rolling his eyes, Stiles relaxes and lets Derek take on more of his weight. His hands slide between the werewolf’s neck and the pillow as he points out, “This is not a good idea.” Derek’s reply is to slide one broad hand up Stiles’ back and urge him to lean down for a kiss.   
  


More than happy to comply, Stiles goes in teasingly slow and his mouth open. Derek is quick to catch on, running his tongue against Stiles’ top lip and teeth.  
  


It’s not really a kiss as much as just… Stiles doesn’t know if there’s a word for this actually? It’s more tongue than lips, more teasing than actual contact and a lot of spit swapping. Humming contently, Stiles’ eyes flutter shut where Derek’s teeth latch onto his bottom lip and worry it.   
  


The distant sound of the doorbell ringing makes then both pause immediately and then groan. “You didn’t tell me I was  _this_ late.” Derek complains under Stiles’ chin.  
  


Stiles rolls his eyes and tries to free himself from the death grip the werewolf’s got on him. “I  _tried_  too but you weren’t interested in listening to me! Now lemme up before Scott decides it’s a good idea to come looking for us. Or worse, sends Mel.”  
  


The thought of Scott and Allison’s precocious 7 year old wandering around their house and walking into their bedroom while they’re fooling around makes Derek jump out of bed so fast that it’s an actual blink and you miss it moment.  
  


> #### never let me go

The strain of holding his head up from the pillow is starting to hurt his neck but Stiles makes himself focus on the kiss. It’s not that hard really. It’s as easy as breathing. Which, actually, might not be the best comparison because even after a few years, there’s some kisses that make him forget that he actually needs air to survive.  
  


His fingertips (and their lips) are the only points of contact going on from the waist up. Derek’s too far up, thus Stiles’ current position of craning his neck up to reach his lovers’ stupidly attractive mouth and the twice as stupid smirk that he’s been sporting from the get go.  
  


Eventually however, there comes a point where the ache in his neck cannot be ignored. Stiles pulls away regretfully, eye lids feeling sluggish and heavy as they open after what feels like hours. He blinks in surprise when he realizes how dark the room is. More storm clouds must have gathered outside. A low rumble of thunder answers his thought but there’s no pattering of rain on the window so, maybe the storm is a ways off.  
  


Stiles blinks, wondering briefly when it will start to rain. He gets a flash of white teeth and a devilish glint before pale eyes before Derek ducks down to playfully and quickly run the tip of his nose against Stiles’ nose. The sensation is ticklish, making Stiles laugh with delight as he flops back into the pillow and grins up at Derek.   
  


The answering grin on the werewolf’s face makes Stiles wish that there was some way through which he could bottle this moment and put it away somewhere safe. To be revisited on another day. Stiles feels content with one hand remaining in place against Derek’s ribs. His hand is happy there. But the other hand? He’s gotta move it up. So his right hand tiptoes up and grabs a strong shoulder. Squeezes it and tries to pull Derek on him with it. “C'mon down here.” He murmurs, batting his lashes coyly at Derek even as he feels foolish for doing so.   
  


Derek chuckles, finally dropping down to his elbows. Stiles is now trapped in the best cage possible and it’s all made of Derek. With a happy wriggle that allows the younger man to feel every blessed naked inch of Derek against his own equally naked body, Stiles sighs and nips at the werewolf’s chin. “Much better.” He sighs happily.  
  


> #### you have made my life complete

Nope. There’s no way that he’s going to give in this time. No siree, no way in Hell because Stiles is pissed to Hell and  _back_  with Derek. And he's  _so_ not gonna be the first one to cave this time. Nope, nope nope.  
  


Stiles crosses his arms and continues to glare at Derek, resolutely keeping his eyes on the other man’s ear instead of the undershirt he’s got on (Derek  _knows_ that that is Stiles’s weakness!) or the sheepish-hurt-apologetic look that the werewolf is sporting (He used to think that Scott had a good puppy dog face but Derek’s proven him wrong).   
  


Oh no. Derek’s right in front of him. Which means that Stiles is getting the full brunt of his sad puppy dog look and there’s no way he can resist it up close. Common sense dictates that he  _must_ hold his ground and not let Derek walk all over him. Again. But his heart whines pitifully and tells his common sense to have a heart! His common sense sighs and advises him to be the stronger person! Three guess who he listens to?  
  


With a loud,  _irritated_ sigh, Stiles’ lets his shoulders slump and his body relax before levelling Derek with a heavy glare. As Derek’s eyes light up, Stiles thinks that if the man had a tail, it’d be wagging so hard… “I’m still mad at you.” Stiles declares even as he lets the werewolf embrace him.  
  


Derek nods, a broad hand cupping Stiles’ face and angling it just so. He can’t stop himself from holding a breath when the other man leans in, their noses brushing against each other in a slow, ticklish slide that makes Stiles’ voice waver as he whispers again, “Really,  _really_ mad."   
  


A moan is trapped between their lips and Stiles doesn’t know where it came from. The fact that it tastes of desperation and reeks of 'Thank God you made it home alive, I was so scared that I might have lost you’ implies that maybe it was his voice. He surges in, parting his mouth and pushing Derek back even as he pulls him in closer with firm hands.   
  


The werewolf’s mouth opens immediately, highly receptive as always to Stiles and his affections. Their tongues and lips slide each other in an obscene manner, like they’re trying to devour each other in as short a time as possible.  
  


Stiles’ hands mirror that urgent manner in which his tongue and teeth are trying to lay claim to Derek’s mouth. They slide through thick hair, move under cotton, scratch against warm skin and push Derek back, back, back until they both tumble down on the sofa with a small 'oof!’  
  


Without missing a beat, Stiles adjusts himself so that he’s straddling the werewolf and yanks his Henley off. Or, Derek’s Henley actually. Tossing the dark material carelessly over his shoulder, Stiles turns his attention towards the gray undershirt Derek is sporting.  
  


He lightly slaps away the werewolf’s hands, grabbing Derek’s wrists and guiding them back until they’re resting against the sofa arm. Stiles grins and gives Derek’s wrists a hard squeeze, "Keep your hands there or else I stop.” He warns, waiting for Derek to acknowledge the order.  
  


As soon as the werewolf nods, Stiles grins evilly and pushes the wifebeater up and out of the way.  
  


> #### and i love you so

“I love you.” The breathless,  _careless_  manner in which Derek says those three words completely steal Stiles’ heart. It’s not often that Derek sounds or looks as relaxed as he is in this moment, lying half naked on the couch and highlighted by the light of the documentary they're watching on TV.  
  


Stiles’ heart contracts and then tries to grow to a size that will properly demonstrate just how much  _love_ he feels for this man under him. How can Stiles feel anything else when Derek’s looking like he’s the most special person in the world. It’s impossible to feel any way but deeply fond and terribly,  _terribly_ in love when Derek lazily blinks at him and closes his eyes - completely trusting Stiles.  
  


His hands move of their own accord, his body following. Stiles slides up so that they’re chest to chest, his lips  _aching_ to be pressed against Derek’s. “Really?” Stiles asks with a widening grin, breathing in Derek’s exhale and offering a warm puff of air in return.   
  


The twinkle in Derek’s eyes is just just barely visible when he cracks one eye open, hiding just under thick lashes. Stiles feels like his organs have turned into bubbles which, every time they pop, let out a warm happy feeling that are responsible for making him feel so damned giddy. “I love you too,” Stiles shares in return, getting the last word out against the werewolf’s bottom lip before kissing him hard.  
  


Stiles is ready to  _swear_ that actual sparks fly between them because of how hot the kiss is. The heat that sweeps through him makes his heat spin and makes him swoop in to kiss Derek harder. The inside of his elbow brush against warm ears and before Stiles’ can take hold of Derek’s hair and tug, Derek’s hands slide up to take hold of his hands and Stiles is done.  
  


He rocks down into Derek’s hips, just wanting more contact that their hands and his clothed chest rubbing against Derek’s naked one. And wow, he needs to get his stupid hoodie off like, yesterday. “Hands.” Stiles whines between one kiss and the next, feeling a little on the stupid side because of his inability to string a complete sentence together.  
  


But Derek is fluent in Stiles-ese and releases Stiles’ hand from his tight grip. And just as quick, they grab the hem of the green hoodie and yank it up. Stiles can’t help but smile giddily at the force behind the action and the lust that’s Derek’s making no effort to hide. Oh this is going to be  _so_ good.  
  


> #### love me true

The air between them is humid and warm despite the fact that it’s the middle of December. It’s worse under the heavy quilt and sheets that are tangled around their hips. There’s sweat gathering behind his knees and the soles of his feet feel burning hot.  
  


Stiles grunts and spreads his knees wider, bracing himself so that he can ride Derek a little harder. The sound of their ragged breathing is loud but it’s got nothing on the mad beating of his heart. Stiles wonders if it’s possible to die because of feeling too good. Because you  _know_ that the orgasm that you’re working your way towards is gonna be  _so_ good, so  _amazing_ , that there won’t be any comparison. But the journey towards it is taking so long, and your muscles are starting to cramp up and this is the fifth position you've tried...  
  


Tearing his gaze away from the ceiling, Stiles looks down at Derek and moans. Derek looks totally fucking  _wrecked_. His lips are red and swollen, his eyes are dark and lust blown and his hair… oh  _fuck_ his  _hair._ Stiles can’t help but whine desperately, unable to  _believe_ how  _much_ Derek makes him feel.  
  


“Fuck!” Stiles cries out, fingernails scratching against hard muscles when Derek fucks up into him. _God,_ he feels so sore and stretched out. His chin presses against his chest, body hanging in place thanks to Derek’s hands on his hips and just letting Derek use him for his own pleasure while he's staring down at the mess his dick's making all over Derek's stomach. “Fuck fuck  _fuck_!” Stiles curses mindlessly, panting as his trembling hands fumble up.  
  


He manages to wrap his hands around Derek’s shoulders and neck and that’s good enough for Stiles to keep himself steady as he swoops in for a kiss. But Derek thrusts up right as Stiles’ moves in and the younger man finds himself moaning and kisses Derek’s upper lip instead of his lips. “Do that again oh please do that again.” Stiles begs against a hot cheek, his hands clinging to Derek’s shoulders for support.  
  


When Derek complies, Stiles whimpers and hopes that he’ll feel the ache of this for the next few days.   
  


> #### all my dreams fulfilled

Tossing his keys onto the nearby table and dropping his bag underneath it, Stiles stumbles into the home with a tired, “Marco.” He doesn’t wait for the answering 'Here’ before he makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's hungry and he needs food like, yesterday.  
  


Derek’s standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot that smells great even from afar. With a pleased noise, the younger man walks up to Derek and presses himself into his shoulders. “You’re supposed to say 'polo’, you idiot.” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s shirt.   
  


“You’re supposed to announce you’re home like a regular member of society.” Derek snarks back immediately, patting Stiles’ arms with his free hand before he pulls the spoon out of the sauce and blows on it. When he feels the werewolf begin to move out of his grasp, Stiles immediately begins to whine because he’s comfortable where he’s standing. Hell, give him 10 minutes and he’ll be asleep on his feet. Heh, that almost rhymed. “Taste this for me.” Derek tells him.  
  


Oooh, food. He can avoid sleep in favor of food. Stiles loosens his grip enough for Derek to turn around, wooden spoon still in hand. The werewolf blows on the hot liquid a few more times for good measure before he holds the spoon up to Stiles’ lips. He may or may not tease Derek by running his tongue over the spoon as obscenely as he can.  
  


Derek’s glare makes the younger man pout and take a proper small sip. He makes a pleased noise and goes in for another taste. “Pretty good! A little too much oregano maybe. Or maybe not enough…” Stiles muses.  
  


With a snort, Derek drops the spoon back into the pot before turning the stove off. “That’s helpful.” Were he not tired as fuck, Stiles would retaliate with an awesome zinger. But tired he is and Derek is pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth that Stiles is more than happy to take as an apology.   
  


Strong arms wrap around him, immediately flooding him with a sense of home-safe-loved. Stiles melts into the kiss, breathing out slowly against the older man’s cheek. He can feel an inhale and exhale blowing past his own skin and it makes his entire  _face_ tingle.  _Christ_ , he’s still got it so bad for Derek.  
  


By the time they pull away, Stiles is feeling more sleepy and relaxed than ever before. It makes his smile look punch drunk when he asks, “Should I just yell 'Lucy, I’m home’ next time?”  
  


> #### for my darlin, I love you

“Do you guys  _have_  to do that?” Jackson complains from his seat. For a moment Stiles wonders who that question is directed towards but then he realizes that it’s for him and Derek. So he looks at Derek, who is leaning against him, cheek pressing into Stiles’ shoulder, and then back at Jackson with a confused eyebrow raise.   
  


The blond rolls his eyes and points at them, ignoring Lydia’s 'Oh honestly, Jackson’. “ _That_. The snuggling and the cuddling and shit. Stop doing that.”  
  


Feeling more confused than before, Stiles looks on his other side at Scott for help. His best friend is staring at the screen, the tip of his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he does his best to maintain the lead that he’s got on Isaac, Boyd and Erica. Allison is cheering and laughing at everyone in equal parts.   
  


Seeing that there’s no help coming from that side of the room, Stiles turns back to Jackson and says, “Make me.” because such is the nature of their relationship.   
  


Jackson looks ready to blow a gasket, stopped only when Lydia pinched his arm and says something right in his ear that makes him deflate faster than a punctured balloon. Curiously, Stiles tilts his head down towards Derek and whispers, “What’d she say to him?”  
  


The arm that Derek’s got around his waist tightens momentarily, pulling Stiles closer to him. “You don’t want to know.” Derek replies, sleepily watching the rest of his pack play Mario Kart and trash talk each other. “No, you really don’t.” He cuts Stiles off before he can insist that no, he  _really_ wants to know.  
  


With a pout, Stiles leans back against the sofa and wriggles. Even though he’s sitting on a thick floor cushion, his butt is starting to get sore. Why was he sitting on the floor anyways? Ah right, Derek had dragged him down.  
  


_'Ah the things we do for love.’_  Stiles muses amusedly to himself, continuing to trace circles on Derek’s bicep. It feels nice to be the one that offers Derek comfort for once - to have his arm wrapped around Derek’s shoulders, be the one holding him upright. Makes Stiles feel all strong and protective. More than usual anyways.  
  


“Hey.”  
  


Stiles turns his attention towards Derek, “Hmm?” He asks quietly. He’s taken by surprise at the kiss that the werewolf lays on him but Stiles’ has an excellent reaction time. Almost immediately, Stiles’ eyes have fluttered shut and he’s returning the pressure Derek’s exerting on his lips.  
  


He presses a hand against Derek’s stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under his palm. It’s a simple, innocent enough touch but it makes  _something_ flip inside Derek and the kiss quickly turns filthy, dirty, deep. A deep, heavy moan makes his chest shake and body quiver.  
  


Jackson groans again, louder than before, “That’s what I was talking about! How are you guys still in the honeymoon stage? It's  _embarrassing_!” Stiles doesn’t stop sucking Derek’s tongue when he raises his hand back towards Jackson and flips him the bird.  
  


> #### and i always will


End file.
